My journey into the abyss

Tarquin Cooper conquers his fears to descend from a high diving board.

By Tarquin Cooper

11:04PM GMT 23 Nov 2008

As I climb the lonely steps, knowing there is only one way down, I am reminded of the beer commercial featuring the comedian Peter Kay performing at a spoof Olympics final. Instead of skimpy trunks, he's wearing floral-patterned baggy shorts. Instead of a taut, honed physique, he's sporting a generous girth. And instead of an effortlessly graceful dive into the pool, he flops in with a massive splash.

I am at the Ponds Forge International Sports Centre in Sheffield, home to one of only five diving pools in the country. With diving students watching, I'm terrified that I'm going to humiliate and hurt myself.

Pulling myself together, I reason that if I've got the courage to wear these "budgie smugglers" – a rather fetching pair of Speedos that are apparently de rigeur for the sport – then leaping off a 33ft diving board should prove no problem.

Then again, 33ft is more than twice the height of two double-decker buses. It's going to be like jumping off a four-storey house. "People don't appreciate, it's a long way down," says Leon Taylor, a diving silver medallist at Athens in 2004 and my instructor for the day. "You've got to be a bit crazy to go from the top. You do need massive amounts of courage, even reckless abandon. You're hitting the water at 40mph. And if you get it wrong, believe me, it hurts."

Diving has come a long way in Britain since the first recorded contest in Scotland, in 1899, in which divers leapt from a height of 6ft. The sport had its Olympic debut in 1904 as "fancy diving". The last major development occurred at the 2000 Olympics in Sydney when synchronised diving was introduced. And, it was this event at Beijing that recently captivated the public's interest, thanks to the performance of Britain's youngest Olympic athlete, 14-year-old Tom Daley.

"He's got massive amounts of natural talent," says Taylor, who is an unofficial mentor to the boy. "When I first saw him as a 10-year-old, it was clear he had a great head on his shoulders. He had something special about him. I call him the Phenome-Tom."

On the subject of Britain's disappointing diving performance in the games, Taylor says we should be proud of this year's athletes as they had little Olympics experience. "It was a good blooding for London," he adds.

And a good blooding is exactly what lies in store for me. First I must learn the correct technique for a feet-first dive. "Imagine you're in a coffin," says Taylor.

We stand at the pool's edge and, with a quick flick of the legs, step into the water like penguins, arms rigidly fixed to the side. "It's exactly the same technique whether at 3m [10ft], 5m [16ft], 7.5m [25ft]," he says. Before he can say "10 metres," my eyes lock onto a platform that towers above us. It does something unnerving to my insides.

We get to the fixed board at 10ft. It already feels high. "OK, do the same thing. Maintain your body control. Look straight ahead. Off you go."

No sooner am I out of the water than I'm climbing the steps again, jumping off and then, directed by Taylor, mounting the steps to the next platform.

"OK, so we're now at 5m [16ft]. Stand with your toes just over the edge. Three-two-one and off you go." This time the impact is noticeably harder. It's definitely a smack on the feet. I do this again and again, then graduate to 25ft. And repeat.

Finally, it's time for the very lonely steps to the top. I feel like a condemned man. Gingerly I step to the edge, take one look down and for the first time I turn away.

"Go on! Just do it," a diver shouts from the bottom.

Taylor calms me down. Heart pounding, I step forward again. A quick downward flick of the eyes and my toes are in place. Then I look straight ahead. Three. Two. One. Like the proverbial lemming, I step over the edge. In mid air, a thought occurs to me: when will I hit the water? (I really am falling for a very long time). Tense the body, close my eyes, wait for it e_SEnD and smack.